Bloodborne: To Yharnam
by Musadeen
Summary: A story about events prior to the downfall of Yharnam as well as the state of affairs in the surrounding lands. It is told from the perspective of a young woman named Brianne and her escort Father Gascoigne.


We were nearing the end of the dimly lit corridor when we heard them coming. Shadows extended, dancing on the wall from the exit of the corridor, human shapes with heavy armored foot pounding the stairs. I turned to the Father as the guards came into view and saw his sword arm firm on the hilt of his blade. The Father stepped to my front and held as our pursuers closed in. I'll never forget how composed he was before staining the floor with those two. I remember some obscenities, an oath sworn in the Father's blood, then screaming. One guardsman down and the other impaled in a blur. As the last guard fell, his cries choked in his gushing blood, I stepped away and felt my wobbling legs collapse. They were still numb.

I had spent that night, and the one before it, hugging my knees against the door of the good duke's guest chambers. I was afforded every privilege in his manor as was befitting my royal station. So long as I subjected myself to his physician's inspections.

"Can you walk Brie?" said the father. He slid his sword out of the man without a glance. "We need to hurry!" he extended his hand. I reached out to him and in the torchlight shuddered as it shone. The torn sheet I wrapped my arm in had slipped off and was lying next to me against the wall. It was the first time I'd seen it in days. It was no longer my own, it couldn't be, and was more an appendage of one of the beasts making prey of the small folk out there. The short tentacled protrusions hung limp on all sides. It marked me as one of them. My father. Would I share in his fate? Dragged through the streets, thrusted upon a stake and burned for all to see.

"Brie!" the Father called. I met his gaze and quickly stood, grabbing the fabric and hastily re-wrapped the disfigurement. I was doing a poor job of it, and my hand was shaking. The Father grabbed the tattered sheet as my hand slowly fell away and began wrapping it for me. "I've had enough of that look. It's how your father was. Sitting there in that chair of his, dead eyes staring at nothing," the Father said.

"I heard he stopped responding to his own name after a while," I said. "But my mother…"

"He'd whip his head around like she had just come back from a stroll in the yard, calling her name. Paying no heed to the tombstone of hers he'd watched like a hawk for hours," the Father said.

He turned and started for the exit, his coat bellowing at his stride. I kept up, hurrying with him down the winding stairs. The elegant hanging banners and smooth white walls patterned with all manner of legendary creatures gave way to low grey stones as we reached the dungeon. Besides the one old man we passed near the entrance huddled in the corner of his cell, the dungeon was largely empty. At the end of the room was a low stone table with a couple of loaves on a plate being cautiously nibbled on by a large rat. It turned and quickly scurried at our approach. "I figure those two won't be hard pressed for supper tonight," said the Father. He held his blood-stained sword in front of him and grinned. "This might be all you get for a while Brie." He picked a up a scrap of linen and wrapped the bread within. I picked up the bread and spotted a lurking rat shoot into a nearby hole in the wall.

"Is Yharnam far from here, Father Gascoigne?" I asked. Gascoigne snatched a leftover piece of linen and began wiping the blood from his sword.

"Three days on horse if we're swift," the Father replied. "Not including the several hours our little night ride will take down the bloody marshes." I knew that was a conservative estimate from his callous tone, yet no choice remained to me. I could suffer no longer the probing of the duke's doctors. My stay in his estate was less a kindness on his part to shield me from the paranoid masses and more due to a morbid fascination he had with my particular condition. His physicians pricked, sliced and hammered away at my arm only to witness the same result. What little blood surfaced quickly subsided and dried, leaving no pain, no scar, nothing. I gripped my arm where the wounds would have been and felt a chill. Gascoigne watched me, sheathed his blade and said "The doctors in Yharnam are said to be the best healers in all the land, and I've seen their work for myself. Regardless of the rumors, they've results to back-up that arrogance their famous for." Gascoigne threw the hood of my travel cloak over my head and smiled. "We'll be there before you know it Brie, and get this mess here right and figured."


End file.
